My Dearly Beloved Luna

Chapter 15

~ Sylvia ~

The next morning, I decide breakfast can wait.

I have no interest in sitting around a table with people who make me feel like an unwanted guest in my own home. When I was told to come back, I never fooled myself into thinking Mum had suddenly changed. I didn’t expect affection or an apology, and I certainly didn’t expect her husband, Marcus, to suddenly treat me like the daughter he should have cared about all these years.

Still, there was one person in this house I had always believed cared about me, even if it was only a little.

Elias.

But after hearing what he had to say about me last night, I know better.

Seeing the way he looked at me and hearing the things he said hurt far more than I want to admit. But disappointment isn’t new to me. I’ve had years of practice swallowing it, so I’ll survive this one too.

I leave my room and head downstairs, keeping my pace quick. The hallways are mostly empty this early, though I can hear the household staff moving between rooms as they prepare for the day. I make my way toward the kitchen, hoping to grab something simple before anyone notices me and turns breakfast into another uncomfortable family affair.

The smell of warm bread and freshly brewed coffee reaches me before I step inside. Edmund is already there, standing by the counter while a younger staff member prepares vegetables.

He looks up when he sees me.

“Miss Sylvia,” he says, straightening slightly. “Breakfast will be ready in the dining room in about thirty minutes.”

I give him a small smile as I walk toward the counter.

“I have to leave early,” I tell him as I walk toward the counter. “I’ll just take something with me.”

His forehead creases. “I can have something packed for you.”

“Some people really do struggle with learning how things work around here.”

The comment makes me pause. I turn toward the sound and find the head cook standing beside the stove, stirring a large pot without bothering to look at me. She’s in her forties, with sharp features and strands of grey running through her brown hair.

She continues as though I’m not standing there.

“She hasn’t even been back a full day, and she’s already making everyone adjust their routine. There’s a proper way this household is run.”

Edmund’s expression changes immediately. “Martha…”

The woman finally turns her head, her spoon still moving slowly through the pot.

I look directly at her. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

My voice comes out calm. Too calm, judging by the way Edmund looks at me.

Martha doesn’t look remotely intimidated. If anything, her expression hardens.

“You heard me.”

I take one slow step toward her, keeping my eyes on hers. “Then say it again.”

I take one slow step toward her.

“Then say it again.”

Her eyebrows lift.

“To my face this time,” I add.

Martha turns fully toward me, the wooden spoon still in her hand. “I said you’re already causing problems. You’ve only been back for a day, and you’re acting like our entire routine should change for you.”

Her eyes trail over me with open disapproval before settling back on my face.

“You don’t even belong here,” she adds

Immediately she says those words something inside me goes still.

It’s the same numbness from last night, except this time it doesn’t make me want to cry.

It makes me want to act.

Edmund shifts beside me, already opening his mouth to speak, but I raise one hand without looking at him. “Don’t.”

Which keeps him quiet.

I walk toward Martha without rushing.

She watches me approach, her mouth twisting into a faint sneer as though she still doesn’t believe I’ll do anything.

When I reach her, I catch her wrist, and her expression changes instantly.

She jerks against my grip, trying to pull free, which she could have since a shifter should have no trouble breaking away from someone like me, but I twist her arm and step closer, applying pressure just beneath her elbow. Her breath catches, and the confidence disappears from her face as pain shoots through her arm.

The spoon slips from her fingers and clatters onto the floor.

“What…” she chokes out, staring at me. “What are you doing?”

I keep my grip steady.“Since you have so much to say, we can discuss it somewhere everyone can hear.”

I turn her slightly toward the kitchen entrance, keeping the pressure on her arm.

“Preferably in front of the Alpha.”

As I start guiding her forward.

She immediately stops fighting.

“Wait,” she pleads, her voice stripped of all its earlier confidence. “Please, stop.”

“You should have thought about that before you said it.”

I keep moving, forcing her to take another step.

“You said it while I was standing right in front of you.” I tighten my grip just enough to make my point clear. “So I’m sure you’ll have no problem saying the same thing in front of my father.”

Hearing those words the color drains from her face.

“Miss Sylvia, please…”

Edmund quickly steps between us, raising both hands. His eyes are wide with alarm.

“Miss Sylvia, perhaps we should leave this alone. I’m sure Martha…”